


abyss

by Inkonstantin



Series: Everyone whose name is written in this notebook will die (and everyone whose name isn't written there, too, since technically everyone dies) [1]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (ba-dumm tshh!), Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Dead L (Death Note), Denial, Gen, Grief/Mourning, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Summaries, Light Angst, POV Yagami Light, Yagami Light is Kira, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkonstantin/pseuds/Inkonstantin
Summary: When Light doesn't have his memories of being Kira, he hates L for suspecting him.Once Light has his memories back, he hates L for having been right.
Relationships: L & Yagami Light
Series: Everyone whose name is written in this notebook will die (and everyone whose name isn't written there, too, since technically everyone dies) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026709
Kudos: 19





	abyss

**Author's Note:**

> my friend recently got me back into the Death Note fandom, after years. hi? 
> 
> so i just wrote this to try to get back into Light's head, but i hope someone out there enjoys/gets something out of it.

**abyss**

Light is literally chained to L; he can’t help but make a study of him. 

And why wouldn’t he? L is a globally renowned detective, he’s accusing Light of mass murder on a scale never before seen in human history, and they’re chained to each other 24/7. It would be impossible _not_ to make a study of L, not to mention idiotic. And altogether impossible. Seriously, it would be _impossible_. 

L is—what _is_ L? _Who_ is L? It’s impossible to know, which makes it imperative that Light try to know—but L was prepared for this. He wouldn’t have chained himself to Light if he weren’t prepared for it. 

Consequently, Light can only gaze at L, from their distance a meters or less, and wonder. What is it that has made the most secretive and anonymous detective in the world chain himself to Light in this way? 

It unsettles Light, because Light knows: an individual like L wouldn’t do something like this unless he _truly believed_ that Light was Kira. 

But Light _knows_ that he’s not Kira, because he _knows_ that he has no memories of being Kira. And yet, L wouldn’t have chained himself to him he weren’t _absolutely certain_. No matter what he lies about the chance being between numbers as low as 1- or 5%—they _have_ to be larger than that, or L wouldn’t be doing this. 

No, L is _certain_ that Light is Kira, and Light—Light can’t _stand_ it, because he knows that he’s _not_ Kira. 

He has literally _no memory_ of being Kira—so how could he _possibly_ be Kira? Because there’s no way, there’s absolutely _no way_ that _anyone_ could have been Kira without being conscious of it. He’d wondered, when he’d turned himself in, but now—he’s had plenty more time to think about it, and he’s certain: it would _not_ be possible be Kira and yet not be conscious of it. 

Light admires and respects L, he really does; L is the greatest detective in the world. How could Light _not_ admire and respect him? L’s history of solved cases is incredible. 

Yet L doesn’t just _suspect_ Light of being Kira, he truly _believes_ that Light was Kira. But Light _knows_ that he was not and _is not_ Kira—and so how is he supposed to reconcile that? His belief in both the great detective L, and his belief in his own innocence? 

It’s impossible to believe in both, given that the two factors contradict each other: either the great L, who has _never_ been wrong in a case, is _now incorrect_ , or else _Light is indeed Kira_.

Light can’t reconcile it, he _can’t_ —because every time L looks at him, Light can _see_ in his eyes that L believes that he’s Kira, yet Light _knows_ that he’s _not_ Kira, and yet— 

Light can’t think about it, he can’t. It makes his head _ache_. Because he can’t _stand_ the idea that he might be Kira, and yet he can’t _stand_ the idea that L should, for the first time ever, be _wrong_ about a case—how is he supposed to reconcile that? Either the greatest detective in the world is completely _wrong_ , or Light is _the greatest single mass murderer in all of human history._

Light _can’t_ reconcile these two ideas—he _can’t._

And yet, what choice does he have? It’s one or the other—and Light can’t stand _either._

And so he stays in denial, in denial, in denial, and he tries to tell himself that there’s a possibility that L’s wrong and that L _knows_ he’s wrong, and yet— 

It’s incredibly difficult to believe that’s the case, when L looks at him with those abyssal dark eyes. Light can’t face himself in that stare, he _can’t._

So he yanks at the chain that connects them and he complains and he _gripes_ , he acts like a _child_ , and he _knows_ that he’s acting like a child, and he hates himself for it, but _L_ is acting like a child, too, and he’s even _more_ childish than _Light_ is. 

And so Light _hates L_ , because L is _like him_ , but he’s also _not,_ because they can’t _both_ be Kira, and Light— 

Light can’t face himself, and so he faces the dark instead, because there is fathomless darkness in L’s eyes, and sometimes as Light falls asleep with L awake sleeplessly beside him he can’t shake the feeling that that darkness in L’s eyes is swallowing him up completely. 

Light never remembers dreaming, and he rarely awakens to find L asleep beside him. 

“Do you dream?” he’d asked L once, and L had looked at him with those dark, _abyssal_ eyes, the sleeplessness nearly as dark and abysmal beneath them. 

“Does anyone _not_ dream?” L had countered, and Light had looked away, because assuredly he _did_ dream, and yet he couldn’t remember a single recollection of his having done so. 

“What do you dream of?” Light had said, to cover up his own lapse of humanity, but L had just smiled one of his ugly, ugly smiles at him and said, _“Guess.”_

Light had frowned at him pointedly and said, “That’s not fair,” and L had just shrugged, unconcerned. 

“If you tell me one of your dreams, I’ll tell you one of mine,” L said. But Light couldn’t remember any of his dreams, and L’s eyes on him were dark and abyssal. 

Light had attempted to shake off the feeling of disquiet. “That’s not fair,” he’d said again, knowing that he sounded petulant, and L had just shrugged. 

“Life isn’t fair,” L said. “The offering I made you is more fair than most things in life.” And Light had had nothing to say, and so he’d just looked away, gritting his teeth. And L had smiled at him, and Light had hated it. 

“If I were Kira,” Light had said spitefully, “I would have killed you already.” And L had just smiled. It was an incredibly ugly smile. 

“You couldn’t have killed me,” L said, with a bone-off-white flashing of teeth, “because you don’t know my name.” 

And Light could do nothing but grit his teeth harder, while beside him L grinned wider. 

“I _wish_ I were Kira,” Light had snapped spitefully; “because at this point, after all you’ve put me through, I _do_ want to kill you.” 

L, chained to him, had just smiled that ugly smile and held up the chain, grinning just as danglingly. “If you kill me, Yagami-kun,” he’d said, “remember that then _you’ll_ die, too.”

Light had just grit his teeth harder. “It might be worth it, at this point,” he’d ground out, and L had just _grinned_ , a grin as abysmal as his sleepless, fathomless eyes. 

“Then by all means, Light-kun,” L had said, with that awful glancing of bone-off-white teeth, _“kill me.”_

And Light could do nothing but grit his teeth harder, because he _couldn’t_ kill L, because _he was not Kira_ , and L, chained to him, had just _grinned_ , and it was such an ugly, _abysmal_ grin. 

“I hate you,” Light had said, and L had smiled that abysmal smile at him and said unfazedly “Every criminal I’ve ever caught has hated me, Light-kun,” and Light could do nothing but grit his teeth even harder and wish that he really _were_ Kira so that he really _could_ kill L. 

“You couldn’t kill me,” L pointed out, watching him with those dark, _abyssal_ eyes. “You don’t know my name, after all.” 

Light, more angry than he knew what to do with, had snapped, _“Oh?_ And why do you call yourself _‘L,’_ huh?” 

L had just looked at him and shrugged. “Obviously,” he said, “I’m not Japanese,” and Light wanted to _strangle_ him. Screw killing him with a _thought_ , Light could always just use his _hands_. 

“Why did your parents name you ‘Light’?” L asked him curiously, those unblinking eyes dark and _abyssal_ , as they always were. “You’re Japanese, but ‘Light’ isn’t exactly a Japanese name.” 

“How should _I_ know?” Light snapped at him, but L was affected by neither his words nor his tone, shrugging simply: “You’ve seriously never asked? The Christian Devil’s name means ‘Light’ too, you know.” 

“My family is _Japanese,_ ” Light had pointed out, angrily, “not _Christian._ ” 

L had just shrugged, as if he didn’t actually care, even though he was the one who’d brought it up. “I was just saying,” he said carelessly. “Because it’s kind of an interesting coincidence.” 

Light had snapped at him, “And who’s name is nothing but a _single letter?_ ” and L had just smiled at him. That abysmal smile. 

“If you don’t believe I’m really just called L,” he said, tilting his head, “then what would you call me?” He’d watched Light’s face with those dark, abyssal eyes, and Light had snapped, _“Lucifer,”_ and L had just _grinned._

“Then we’d be the same,” L had said, that grin of his ugly and awful, and Light had _wished_ he were Kira so that he could kill him as easily as just _thinking_ it. 

“If I _were_ Kira,” he’d told L, glaring with all his hatred, “you’d be _dead_ right now,” but L had just grinned at him. 

“No,” L had said, looking at him with those dark, abyssal eyes, “if you were Kira, Light-kun, you would not have killed be by this point, because you’re far too intelligent for that. It would suggest too much against you; instead, you’d wait until everyone trusted you and truly believed you could never be Kira. Only _then_ would you kill me.” 

And Light could do nothing but grit his teeth, because he knew what L had said to be true, and L had smiled at him with his bone-off-white teeth, and Light wanted him _dead_ and yet knew that that urge did nothing for his case, and could have no practical application besides. 

“If you caught Kira,” L asked him, looking at him with those dark, _abyssal_ eyes, “what sentence would you grant him, if it were up to you?” 

“Death,” Light said immediately. 

“By what?” L asked him curiously, eyes unblinking, dark and _abyssal_ and Light had smiled at him as wide as his face would allow. 

_“Shame at having lost,”_ he’d said, and L smiled wider, the smile abysmal.

“I wish,” L had told him, eyes dark and _abyssal_ , “that you really _weren’t_ Kira, Light-kun, so that I could see you say that to Kira’s face.” 

Light grit his teeth in lieu of _punching_ L. “I’m _not_ Kira, L,” he said pointedly, and L just smiled abysmally: “If not you, Light-kun, then _who?_ ” and Light could only look away and grit his teeth harder, because he had no answer, and L, beneath his dark and abyssal eyes, just _grinned._

“Who do you _want_ Kira to be?” L asked him, and Light answered him: _“Not me.”_

L hummed, and prodded, “But if not you, then _who?_ ” and Light could avoid looking at his _abysmal_ stare, clenching his fists gritting his teeth, because he _didn’t know._

It made him want to _punch_ L when L _grinned_ at him like that, that pallid crescent of teeth stretching towards a curve like the white sclera ringing the fathomless black pits of his irises. 

“I want you to be Kira, Light-kun,” L told him, that _abysmal smile_ revealing the teeth behind his lips, “because I can’t stand the idea of there being someone else out there as intelligent as you and just as capable of being Kira.” 

And what could Light do in response except grit tighter his teeth? 

“I want _you_ to be Kira,” he snapped at L: “ _that_ would be _hilarious_.” 

L’s abysmal grin just stretched wider beneath the abysses of his eyes and he agreed simply: “It _would_ , wouldn’t it?” 

And Light could do nothing but grit his teeth harder still, because he felt like he’d _lost_ , and L was grinning like he’d _won_ , and Light hated him for it, and he realized that hating L for it did absolutely _nothing_ for his case about _not_ being Kira, and L was grinning at him like he _knew_ that, and Light could do _nothing_ except wish L dead and wish that he _didn’t_ wish L dead, because it was far too incriminating. 

“If you could kill me, Light-kun,” L asked him, watching him with eyes like empty spaces in his head that begged to have pens jammed into them, “would you?” 

“If _you_ could kill _me,_ ” Light countered, glaring daggers into the abyssal holes of those dark eyes, “would _you?_ ” 

“That’s not my job,” L said simply, that gaze _abysmal_. “I solve mysteries; I don’t punish criminals. That’s the role of the judicial system.” 

Light laughed darkly. “And it never bothers you,” he asked, “when they equate a criminal you worked so hard to condemn?” 

L just shrugged. “That’s not my job,” he said again, his gaze as dark as Light’s laugh. “I only solve mysteries.” 

“You’re a horrible person,” Light accused, and L just smiled at him with that smile like the worthless emergence of an anemic crescent of moon on a night even darker than death. 

“You _would_ know, wouldn’t you, Light-kun,” L said, and Light shot back, “Could find anyone who would corroborate that sentiment?” and L once again only _grinned._

“Of course not,” L smiled—that ugly, hopelessly _abysmal_ smile—“because Light-kun is perfect.” 

Light glared, because when L said it, it was not said like a compliment, but like a condemnation. 

“I _wish_ I were Kira,” Light spat at him, _spiteful_ , “because at this point you’ve really, _really_ made me crave your being _dead.”_

“Don’t worry, Light-kun,” L said, tilting his head as he regarded him, those dark eyes on Light abyssal. “At the end of this, one of us certainly will be.” 

_“Yeah,”_ Light snapped at him, “and I certainly don’t want it to be _me.”_

“Neither do I, Light-kun,” L smiled at him, and only later would Light realize that he had no idea whether L meant that he didn’t want to die _himself_ , or that he didn’t want _Light_ to die. 

It was hard to know, with L lying in his arms with a seizing heart, looking up at him with those dark, _abyssal_ eyes, and Light didn’t even see the light in them fade as L’s life left him because there was no light _there_ to die in the first place. 

_It looks like I am Kira,_ Light had thought, L limp and dead in his arms as he pretended to scream. But maybe the scream wasn’t _entirely_ fake, because the good thing about Light’s being Kira was that L was now dead, but the _problem_ with Light’s being Kira was that L had been _right._

The problem with Light’s being Kira was that Light himself had been wrong—and the funny thing about that was that Light, when he’d given up his memories of the Death Note, had _counted_ on that fact. He’d _counted_ on his being wrong and nonetheless believing he was right. 

Light didn’t know whether to feel betrayed by himself or if he should pleased at his own ability to screw himself over. 

And so Light screamed. And the ironic thing was that, even though the scream was fake, it probably wasn’t as fake as all L’s smiles had been. Smiles that had never reached his dark, abyssal eyes, like an anemic crescent of moon failed to illuminate the hours of night. 

L had died right there in his arms, and Light had not even seen the light in those abysmally dark eyes fade, because the only _light_ that had ever been there was Light’s own reflection on their cornea—and Light could see his reflection there, still, even though L was dead, and L’s dying expression as he’d looked up into Light’s gaze had said _I was right—I knew that I was right,_ and maybe Light had smirked at him because _Yes, L, you were right—but you could never prove it, and now you’ll never get the chance,_ and he wished that L’s dying expression had contained some amount of defeat instead of just the petulant _But I was right—I told you that I was right, and yet you didn’t believe me._

 _Yes, L,_ Light thought, _you were right, I admit it—you were right; and so now you’re dead._

And L’s dark, abyssal eyes looking up at him without life still echoed to him L’s sentiment _But Light-kun, I’d ever so much rather be dead than have been , wrong._

 _So I gave you what you wanted,_ Light thought at a dead body, spitefully, _You should thank me, L._

 _But I’m dead, Light-kun,_ said those dark, abysmal, _lifeless_ eyes in which there was still the light of Light’s reflection, and Light set L’s corpse on the ground and turned away so that _that_ would finally be gone from them, too. 

But L’s lightless gaze was burned into the abyssal darkness behind his eyelids, repeating childishly, _I was right, Light-kun; I was right; I was right._

 _Yes,_ Light thought angrily at a dead body and an absent mind, _you were right, L; you were right, okay?! And now you’re dead! Are you happy now?!_

And every darkness in the world echoed of the stare of L’s dark, abyssal eyes as he’d taunted, _Light-kun, I was right._

 _And now you’re dead!_ Light thought angrily at a dead body an echoing mind, _Now you’re dead! Are you happy now?!_

 _And now I’m dead,_ agreed L’s absence. _You killed me, Light, just like you wanted and planned. Congrats! I’m very much dead! Are you happy now, Light?_

 _Yes,_ Light thought at a dead body and the abyss of an absent mind, _I wanted you dead!_

 _And now I’m dead,_ agreed the abyss of L’s absence. _Are you happy now, Light?_

 _Yes,_ Light mentally screamed into that empty abyss, _I’m happy that you’re dead, L! I’m happy!_

 _But you were wrong before, Light,_ rang the damnable echoes of L’s abysmal mind, _So who’s to say that you might not be wrong again?_

 _Shut up!_ Light thought furiously at a dead body and a silenced mind. _You’re dead, L! So just shut up already!_

 _Yes,_ agreed the abyssal absence of L’s mind, _I’m dead, Light. You killed me, just like you wanted and planned. Aren’t you happy now, Light?_

 _Yes,_ Light mentally screamed into that echoing abyss, _I’m happy now, L! I won!_

 _But you didn’t win,_ said the abysmal echoes of L’s mind, _because you were wrong—I was the one who was right._

 _Yes,_ Light mentally screamed at a dead body and long-silenced but still-echoing mind, _and now you’re dead, L! You were right, and so now you’re dead! Are you happy now?!_

 _Aww, I didn’t know you cared, Light-kun,_ rang the fathomlessly dark echoes of L’s mind, adorned with the pale trimmings of the memory of that anemic, moon-crescent smile, and Light mentally screamed at it all: _I don’t care, L! I don’t!_

 _But you were wrong before, Light-kun,_ rang the night-hour echoes of L’s mind, graced with the memories of that hopelessly abysmal smile, _So who’s to say you might not be wrong again? You were wrong before—I was never wrong. I was always right, Light-kun._

 _Yes,_ Light mentally screamed into the empty darkness of an abyss, _and now you’re dead, L! Look where being right got you! You’re dead!_

 _Yes,_ agreed the abyssal echoes of L’s mind, _I’m dead, Light. Look where being wrong got you! Happiness: being wrong brought you happiness, so you claim! So who’s to say you might not be wrong again? It brought you happiness the last time, so you claim!_

 _Shut up!_ Light mentally screamed at a dead body and a long-silenced mind. _You’re dead, L! So just shut up already! _

And every darkness in the world echoed of the stare of L’s dark, abyssal eyes as the presence of his absence taunted: _Yes, I’m dead, Light; you killed me, Light; you won, Light. Aren’t you happy now, Light?_

Light, because he was perfect just like L had said he was, grit his teeth against the urge to scream, as he always did, and set himself to his task of being Kira—which was, as it had always been, hindered by absolutely nothing except for L. 


End file.
